


You Knew What This Was

by DoMeCarisi (orphan_account)



Series: Between Shadow and Soul [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Barisi - Freeform, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt, M/M, What really happened between s17 and s18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 23:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10423815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DoMeCarisi
Summary: This piece was inspired by my desire to explain the change in Sonny’s affect in Season 18, as well as his new dynamic with Barba.





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m not worried. Not in here.” 

Barba had experienced his share of difficult times, but the last few weeks had nearly pushed him past his limit. Dodds’ death had been shocking, shining a bright, unwelcome light on the fears he had been trying hard to suppress.

He put on a brave face, standing up to those that tried to intimidate him. Acting unfazed and unbothered, easily giving out his home address and refusing to be browbeaten. But really, he couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder. Getting up at night to double check the locks on his doors. Finding excuses to stay late at the office. Taking a different route home each night. 

The dread in the pit of his stomach was unrelenting. He felt worn out and on edge, sure the mask was beginning to slip. Did others notice the bags under his eyes? His heart jumping into his throat at a loud knock or the tremor in his hand when he opened the door? 

Raising a glass to toast their fallen friend, Barba focused on the man in front of him. Concerned blue eyes and a face resolute above a starched collar weighted down by brass precinct pins.The assortment of medals affixed to his jacket. The black band stretched across his shield. 

He wasn’t sure what changed that day - if it was the stress, the tragedy, or the drinks - but in that moment a wall came down. A wall he had been desperately holding up for longer than he wanted to admit. And somehow, full of grief and loss, nerves frayed after weeks of sleepless nights, he wasn’t worried anymore. 

Through it all, Carisi had been there, making it his personal mission to make sure he was safe. Protected. Lending a sympathetic ear, investing his time and emotional currency. Giving more of himself than Barba felt he had earned. And eventually, inexplicably, Carisi had become more than an over-eager admirer or colleague, but a trusted friend. 

They stayed at the bar late that night, long after everyone else had gone home to their families. Tie loosened and drinking, talking freely about death and finality. Pretenses gone. Raw and vulnerable. They talked about the dangers and uncertainty of their jobs and the horrors they come up against on a daily basis. The nightmares they push from their minds each night just to get up the next day and do it all over it again. 

When it was finally time to leave, Carisi escorted Barba home, walking him up the narrow steps to his apartment and insisting that he come in to “clear the rooms.” Barba didn’t put up a fight, instead pulling two cut crystal glasses from the cabinet and pouring them each two fingers of his special occasion scotch, Macallan 18. Neat. 

The lights were low and the room was still and contemplative as they sat next to one another on Barba’s leather couch, overstuffed and edged in brass tacks. Hints of the Manhattan skyline peeked through the drawn curtains but otherwise the outside world felt out of reach as they quietly sipped their drinks, casting the occasional furtive glance in one another’s direction, unsure what to do next.

Maybe it was the heaviness of the day. The unflinching realization that no matter how hard you try to pretend otherwise, your time here is limited. Or maybe it was that he just needed someone to hold. To help him stop thinking for one night. 

Whatever the reason, for once he didn’t try to overanalyze it. And with one burning impulse, he reached over to place his hand on the detective’s thigh. 

Carisi tensed under his touch but didn’t make any attempt to move away from it, and Barba’s fingers curled into his leg to give a gentle squeeze before shifting in his seat and leaning in - just enough to make his intentions clear. 

After a long moment’s hesitation, Carisi leaned in too, skin flushed and pulse quick, taking Barba’s jaw in his hand and planting a long held-in kiss on his lips. The sort of anguished, yearning, soulful kiss that Barba so desperately needed in that moment.


	2. Chapter 2

It was only supposed to be that one night, but the fear that had clung to his back for so long had started to dissipate, and for the first time in a very long time, Barba felt relief. 

And soon, it became their routine.

A stolen glance from across the office. A text simply reading “Get here soon.” Barba meeting Carisi at the door with a hungry look in his eyes, tearing at his clothes before he had barely passed the threshold. Lips searing against skin, rough hands roaming over sweaty bodies. Lying spent and breathless on crumpled sheets. Purely physical and primal and cathartic.

Carisi was inexperienced but enthusiastic, taking direction well and anxious to please, looking at Barba with a veneration he wasn’t sure he deserved. His touch achingly desperate and imperative.

They shared a secret, just between them. Mutual mourning and release. An instinctual grasp at solace and comfort.

And before long, they weren’t just rolling over and falling asleep afterward, but laying in bed talking late into the night, tangled under blankets. Fingers tracing the contours of one another’s bodies, drawing lazy circles down Carisi’s arm, across the dip in his clavicle. Discussing the good and the bad. Their childhoods and aspirations. Favorite foods. Their ideas of what makes a perfect Sunday.

And Barba found himself unexpectedly tumbling toward him. Counting down the hours until he could get home and reunite with him.Tired and worn out from long days, relaxing together on the couch watching old movies. Casablanca. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Take-out spread out on the coffee table in front of them and hands held under the shared throw. It became comfortable. Easy.

Barba knew he had to tread carefully. That he couldn’t allow himself to consider the arrangement anything more than casual. A passing romance. The possibility for any future between them was impossible; a detective in an affair with the Assistant District Attorney tasked with prosecuting his cases was a clear conflict of interest.

But he knew that Carisi wanted more. He told him as much. He wanted to kiss in the street without fear of who was watching.To go out for dinner. To take him to farmer’s markets and plan weekend trips. He was restless and wanted to be open.

And if Barba was being honest with himself, a part of him wanted it too. But anytime the thought struck him, he pushed it down. There were too many complications.

They laid in bed, lazy and sleepy eyed as the early day’s light filled the room. It was one of the rare days they both had off. No outside obligations or responsibilities to tend to.

Carisi ran his fingers down Barba’s chest, through the rough patch of hair on his sternum, his face lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind?” Barba asked, his voice quiet.

Carisi waited to respond, for once choosing his words carefully.

“I know we can figure it out. I can put in for transfer orders tomorrow.”

Barba’s chest tightened. He knew this conversation was coming, but had hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. But Carisi was naively optimistic, always searching for a way to make it work. 

“You can’t seriously be considering that.”

Carisi pulled back his hand to prop himself up on his elbow. “Yeah, I am. There a problem with that?”

“Why can’t we just enjoy this for what it is?” Barba replied, instantly regretting his words.

The implication wasn’t lost on Carisi and his eyes flashed with hurt. 

Barba’s heart sank. This is an argument he can’t win. That maybe he doesn’t want to win.

“I can make a few calls and see if the position in Brooklyn is still open.”


	3. Chapter 3

Barba stood in his kitchen pouring two glasses of wine, anxiously eyeing the take-out on the counter, hoping it wasn’t getting cold. Piemontese from Non Solo Piada. Carisi’s favorite.

After filling both glasses he checked his watch. Carisi was late.

He leaned against the counter with a sigh, drinking his wine. Compulsively checking his phone and listening for Carisi’s distinctive footsteps coming up the steps. He hadn’t heard from him all day, which wasn’t entirely unusual, given the nature of his job. But he was getting impatient.

When Carisi finally arrived thirty minutes later, shoulders rounded and brows creased, Barba could immediately sense that something was off.

“How’d it go?”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t know,” Carisi replied as he moved to the counter, eyes downward.

“You don’t know? I assume you were present during the interview?”

“It didn’t go well, Rafi.”

Barba could tell that he wanted to elaborate but he stopped, clearing his throat and looking down at his hand curled around the stem of the wine glass. Ears red. Barba was suddenly aware that this wasn’t a moment for sarcasm or teasing. He moved to stand beside him, bringing a gentle hand to his back. Voice soft.

“It was just one interview. There are other boroughs, other departments.”

“No,” Carisi shook his head. “I’m just a cop. That’s all I’m good at.”

Carisi never told him about why he spit out the word “cop,” but Barba could guess.

After that night, things were different. They stopped talking about the future. About transfers or career changes. Daydreaming on lazy mornings about Sundays in the park or trips to the beach.

Instead, there was a tense, unspoken understanding between them. That whatever _this_ was, it was running its course.

It didn’t matter how well they fit together or made one another laugh. How perfectly Carisi’s arms hooked around Barba’s chest. Neither of them were willing to make the leap. To step into the unfamiliar. To come out and change careers.

The strain between them boiled over into arguments with increasing frequency. Bickering over the toothbrush Carisi left on the sink. Spats over what to eat for dinner.

And then one night, Barba bent over a collection of notes spread out over the coffee table, Carisi kept pushing him. Debating Barba’s legal argument. Insisting that he was wrong.

“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” Barba replied dismissively, his eyes fixed on the documents in front of him.

But Carisi was relentless, and finally Barba looked up. Eyes narrowed.

“Don’t forget that it’s my job to prosecute,” the words slipped out like ice. “You just arrest them.”

After that, it wasn’t just bickering or petty argument. They fought.

Barba could still remember Carisi standing in the living room, shouting. Red in the face. He could still hear his words. Feel them hooking under his skin, sinking into his chest.

“You’re pushing me away because you’re afraid! You’re afraid of what would happen if you would admit that you love me.”

And then Carisi waited. For a response - an admission, a deflection, something - as the words hung in the air between them like a giant zeppelin waiting to catch fire.

But Barba just stood there, the words sitting on his tongue like a flaming match, burning his throat. But for once he didn’t argue.

He didn’t say anything at all.

Nodding with the understanding that the conversation was over, Carisi whipped his jacket off the coat rack and stormed out.


	4. Chapter 4

“I can’t make you happy, Sonny. Not the way that you want.”

“That’s crap and you know it.” 

Carisi sat on the couch, looking up at Barba with pleading eyes.

It was never supposed to go this far or to mean anything. It was only meant to be that one night - just two lonely souls searching for meaning and comfort. Something to ease the grief.

But who was he kidding?

That night in the bar, he didn’t want just anyone. He wanted Sonny.

For months he had been ignoring the flutter in his chest and the stir in his slacks every time the detective stood near him. Lying to himself by brushing him off but then finding excuses to work with him.

The night they fought in Barba’s living room, Carisi was right. He did love him.

And that was the problem.

The following day, Barba had sat behind his desk, door closed. Schedule cleared. Thinking through every possible outcome. Any possible way that this could be navigated. He knew that going public would have inevitable consequences. Their private lives would be scrutinized. Cases questioned and possibly reopened.

And Sonny…

It would be unfair to put him through all of this. If it were known that he was sleeping with an ADA, none of his peers would ever look at him the same way. He would never be taken seriously again. Barba couldn’t let his own selfish desires put Carisi in a compromising position, possibly jeopardizing his career. And for what? Barba was accustomed to being alone. And Sonny was young. He’d bounce back.

Barba paused, waiting to respond until he was absolutely sure. Knowing there was no going back from this. Then he met Carisi’s eyes with a cold gaze, summoning his strength.

“You knew what this was.”

The words came out sharp and he knew they would cut deep, trivializing the moments they had shared over the last few months.

In fact, he had counted on it.

Every early morning together, Barba’s head tucked under Carisi’s chin, warm under the covers as the room slowly filled with light. Every kiss on the forehead, fingers interlacing as they found comfort and understanding in one another. Every conversation held deep into the night, laughing and learning and discovering common ground.

All of it undone with five words.

And even though it wasn’t what Barba wanted, he knew it was necessary.

He held his lips in a tight line, arms crossed over his chest as he searched Carisi’s face. He could see it in his eyes as he rolled the words around in his mind, jaw hardening. Cheeks red.

And then Carisi nodded, bracing his hands on his knees in surrender with a long exhale.

“Alright.”

Barba watched stone faced as he stood from the couch and walked to the door, placing his hand on the door knob. His tall frame turned away from him, shoulders hunched.

Barba waited for him to turn around. To do something. To say something else. But he didn’t. And one long moment later, Carisi opened the door and walked out.

Barba didn’t move from where he was standing for a long while.

The apartment was quiet and overwhelmingly empty. He tried to focus on the voices of people outside the window walking down the sidewalk but couldn’t. His mind was blank.

Eventually, he walked to the kitchen, loosening his tie and pulling down a bottle of bourbon. He poured a strong drink and leaned against the counter, taking a long sip.


End file.
